


Carry Your Burdens

by lea_hazel



Series: Hearth and Home [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alchemy, Alien Mythology/Religion, Community: skyrimkinkmeme, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skyrim: not always friendly to Khajiit. Well-meaning Nords: not always aware of this fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry Your Burdens

Iona had always done her duty. When her city started to crumble under the weight of its own corruption, she found comfort in the traditions that her mother and grandmother had passed down to her. As long as she kept the old ways, they would keep her, too. This was why she never hesitated to answer her Thane's call, no matter what her personal misgivings. She followed her wherever she went and left her side only when dismissed. Whatever else might happen in Skyrim, Iona would always do her duty. 

On this particular day, her duty took her to Solitude. 

They had walked the whole way, often avoiding the well-paved roads and traveling through dense forests, wading through marshes, or climbing over sheer cliffs. The Thane would not ride a horse, though she could certainly afford to keep one. Iona refused to complain, even when they kept walking well past sunset. It was not her place to question her Thane's orders, not without ample cause. Sore feet and muddy blankets were not ample cause. 

Once Solitude was within their line of sight, they took to the road again. A Khajiit  _merchant_  approached them and she elected to stop and converse with him. Though she could not hear what they were saying and would never think to eavesdrop, Iona could plainly see the Thane passing a pouch filled with coin to the vagrant, and receiving an alchemist's satchel in return, which she then stuffed into her traveling pack. Doubts niggled in the back of her brain, but she tamped them down. 

They walked the rest of the way on the road. From time to time they saw other travelers, though they never approached or spoke to any of them. Nearer to the city there were more people on the road, both Haafingar guardsmen and Imperial soldiers. 

"Keep your paws where I can see them," said one soldier, just as they were passing by him. 

"Don't even think about it, cat," muttered a guardsman as she shied to the farthest edge of the road. "Don't think you can sneak up on me, either." 

Climbing up the slope to the cliffside capital, they passed by a prosperous farm and a livery stable. Iona distinctly heard one farmhand hiss to another, "Stay away from those ones if you know what's good for you." 

As they approached the city gates, the guards grew more plentiful. 

"Your honeyed words won't get you out of Castle Dour's dungeon," said one soldier, who seemed to be guarding a prisoner headed for the block. "Watch yourself if you don't want to end up like Roggvir, here." 

By the time they made it into the city proper, the sky was dark and stars were winking into life. Soon the moon would rise. 

"It's late," said the Thane. "All the shops are closed. We should find a room at a tavern and let our business wait until tomorrow." 

Iona, who had no idea what their business even was, said only, "Yes, my Thane." 

She paused and dug into her pouch, handing Iona a stack of ten coins. 

"What's this?" 

"The cost of a room for the night," said the Thane. "You're paying for it. Innkeepers won't accept gold from Khajiit. They say it's weighted with nickel." 

She was about to turn and march off when she saw that her housecarl was not beside her. Iona stood rooted to her spot by the executioner's block. 

"What is it?" she asked, clearly irritated. 

"Are they always like this?" she asked, too shaken to stand by strict protocol. 

The khajiit turned and regarded her. "Yes," she said shortly. "Tavern keepers always think everyone is out to cheat them." 

Iona shook her head. "You know that's not what I meant." 

She groaned, a sound uncomfortably like a wildcat's predatory growl. "Yes, Ki'shaal knows what you mean. It is always like this. All suspect Khajiit of cheating, or stealing, or lying, or dealing in Skooma. You suspected Ki'shaal of this, did you not?" 

"I-- no!" said Iona hurriedly, though she knew she was lying. 

"Moon Salt is necessary for sacrament, and for alchemical potions," she said firmly. "Ki'shaal is an apothecary. If humans are foolish enough to consume Skooma even though they know it is harmful to them, this is not Ki'shaal's fault." 

"No," said Iona, "it isn't."

"Ki'shaal is used to it, by now. It is hardly worth noticing." She drew herself up to her full height and unflattened her ears. "Now we will go into the inn and you will pay the innkeeper so that we may sleep in a bed for one night." 

  
"Yes, my Thane," said Iona. 

As they were entering the busy tavern, a raggedly dressed vagrant said, "You should know that Vinius doesn't tolerate Skooma trade in the Winking Skeever." 

Iona's hand clenched over her sword-hilt. 

"Let it go, Iona," said Ki'shaal softly. 

"Yes, my Thane," she said. "I'm right behind you." 


End file.
